Two years ago, I spent a week in August visiting my parents in the White Mountains of Northeastern Arizona during the height of the monsoon season. I have experienced lots of thunderstorms in my life living in the Midwest yet had never seen a real, full-blown monsoon storm.
You would think that in a desert climate such as Arizona, that it never ever rains. That is true for the most part. For most of the year, it hardly if ever rains. However, once summer nears and the monsoon season begins, it is a whole new place with the telltale signs of the powder-puff monsoon clouds laden with rain.
The weather can be perfectly clear with a brilliant blue sky and then all of a sudden, in roll the crazy, out of this world clouds of brilliant, glistening whites that turn to hues of creams, pinks, grays, blues and eventually black. The wind picks up, the thunder roars and lightning flashes sideways across the sky and you better be inside or if not, run for cover. It is going to storm and it is going to rain hard.
Normally in the White Mountains the monsoons start forming around mid-morning, as the clouds have grown bigger, brighter and then darker over time. The monsoon generally starts over the highest peaks of the mountains and moves slowly over the Mogollon Rim. By early to mid afternoon, the storm reaches here at my parent’s house in and the thunder begins.
I loved watching the monsoons come in with their explosion of light and nervous energy they evoked across the land. Silence. Thunder. Then a roar and a downpour of rain. Followed by more rain, more lightning, more thunder and then silence once again after the storm has passed.
Finally after the storm comes the calming hues of the sunset. Another day has come and gone, and tomorrow another storm awaits.
This post was inspired by the weekly photo challenge: Foreshadow. To see more entries, click here.